The Scroll from Before
by Faith's Hair Is Turquoise
Summary: Voldemort is in serious need of a plan to destroy Harry Potter, seeing as all his others have failed him. Wormail has found a scroll of parchment that just may lead Voldemort to gaining the power he needs. However...is that power even real? Oh dear...
1. The Scroll

**Author's Note: Okay, here I am, starting off the New Year with a chapter of a new story that I'll probably never finish anyway. (Just so you know, I'm on Chapter 13 in the HBP, so whatever is past that I'm not too sure of...just a few things, due to the evilness of Wikipedia...don't eat me, okay?) The beginning's a bit similar to **_**Wish Upon a Raindrop,**_** but, eh, oh well. Right, here it is:**

**Disclaimer: Gosh, do I gotta say it?**

**Faith: -death glare-**

**Disclaimer: Fine...I do not own Harry Potter whatsoever, JKR does, otherwise Sirius would still be alive. But I **_**do**_** own the plot. So there.**

Voldemort was stalking around his room, giving Wormtail deathly glares every time the servant passed by. He was in serious need of a plan. Not just any plan, no, not at all. A good plan. One that would work very well for him. One that would destroy that Potter brat once and for all.

Oh yes, the Dark Lord--

(Suddenly there was scary music in the background, complete with thunder roaring and lightning cracking outside the window, despite the fact it wasn't raining)

--would reign terror once more.

But what could he do? His diary hadn't worked on the little Weasley girl...no, she was saved by _Potter, _and _Potter_ defeated him and the basilisk. He couldn't use another portkey--_Potter_ would be expecting it; this time, he'd be ready. It was already proven that his Death Eaters couldn't defeat a group of amateur teenage wizards, one of which being _Potter_, another one being _Longbottom_, of all people; if they were defeated by the Longbottom boy, then it's true: His army was seriously loosing their edge.

He continued pacing, his brain going through so many plans that there was a risk of it just exploding in his skull. Voldemort needed to have a plan. He just needed one, be it the smallest thing in the world that could possibly formulate a plot to destroy the Boy Who Lived, _anything--_

Suddenly the door flew open, with Wormtail smiling quite giddily. He was holding a scroll of parchment in his ratty little hands, which evidently was supposed to be very important. He bowed his head, and said, "Master, I had a message! It is addressed to the Dark Lord!"

(At this, there was more lightning, thunder, and music)

"Give it here!" Voldemort tore the scroll from Wormtail, who looked a bit hurt at the fact that Voldemort didn't say "Thank you", and opened it. Inside was written:

_Legends tell of something great,_

_of a Muggle who has the power of_

_giving wizards and witches mysterious gifts,_

_more powerful than even love._

Voldemort glared. _Mother's love,_ he thought angrily. _Seriously, who came up with that crap? Mother's love, come_ ON_, Potter's saved because his darn mother simply __loved__ him so much she sacrificed herself for him; I mean, talk about cliché..._

_If stories are stories and legends are truth,_

_then how would you go with all this?_

_Are you going to simply pass up the offer to_

_be the ALMIGHTY wizard or witch?_

Voldemort considered what this strange letter was proposing.

_To find the Muggle who can give you this--_

Voldemort stopped reading. "Wait," he said out loud, quite furious, "a _Muggle_ is going to be giving me this power?! I didn't sign up for this!" He made a rude had gesture to the author of this story.

The author held her finger lingeringly over the "delete" button, threatening to erase him completely from the story.

Voldemort swore under his breath and muttered a quick "Sorry."

The author smiled. "I thought so." She continued to type away.

Voldemort decided that if it was a Muggle who would make him all-powerful and crap like that, he'd just get over his pickiness and get on with it. Once he had the gift, he could destroy the Muggle, anyway.

_To find the Muggle who can give you this gift,_

_crack two eggs upon a head,_

_point your wand and say, "Yo, Eggs!_

_Give me the goods!" And with that said,_

_the yolk should fly into the air,_

_create a vortex, and inside it will be_

_the Muggle you should go and find_

_and is it the one? Well, we'll see!_

"So...this is a fifty-fifty kind of thing, huh?" Voldemort said. He wasn't quite sure about the entire egg ritual, but decided, eh, if it's what he's gonna have to do, it's what he'll do. He'd crack the eggs on Wormtail's head, anyway.

About ten minutes later, the egg ritual was performed, and Voldemort stepped back, looking wonderingly. It was quite strange, but the yolk actually began to fly and spin in circles, spraying egg-glop everywhere. There soon was a vortex formed, and inside...was a girl, reading something, seeming totally peaceful.

Voldemort smiled. The Dark Lord--

(Scary music, thunder, etc.)

--was back.

**Author's Note: Yeah...if the quality was bad, my excuse is that I wrote this chapter at two a.m., okay? There. Review. NOW.**


	2. Here's the Catch

**Author's Note: Wow, chapter two already? Yeah, I'm just trying to get the full idea down before I become too lazy to finish it. So there.**

**Disclaimer: I already said it! Refer to chapter one! Shoo!**

**Faith: But there's something else...**

**Disclaimer: Oh, really? -sees script- Oh...well, I don't own anything **_**else**_** beside the plot and the Muggle who's supposed to give Voldemort the huge mega-gift. There we go.**

Voldemort was cackling, looking at the girl reading all peaceful and unsuspecting in her home. "Wormtail," he said, smiling, "I think we've found our Muggle."

"Oh, Dark Lord,"--cue the lightning and stuff--"I think you may want to know, there is a fine print, I see..." Wormtail whimpered, holding the bottom of the scroll up to his face.

"Fine print? Where?" Voldemort snatched the scroll from Wormtail and read towards the bottom of it. And sure enough, written in minuscule lettering just so that you wouldn't catch it the first four or five times was written:

_Do not torture the Muggle. It is their choice whether or not to give their gift to you, and the only way to receive it is if the Muggle decides you deserve it and gives it to you in joy. So don't waste your breath. Bye bye, now._

"Darn it, I can't do _nothing!_" Voldemort yelled angrily.

---

Far away, at Hogwarts, a cry of pain could be heard from Harry.

"Harry, you've been doing that all night," said Ron, yawning. Harry's squeaks and yelps had been keeping him awake, and Ron was not enjoying it at all.

The other three boys were deeply snoring, ignoring completely the fact that two of the boys were still up and alert.

"Sorry, Ron," Harry said, putting on his glasses and rubbing his scar. "It's been giving me sharp jolts all night; I think Voldemort may be up to something..."

"He's _always_ up to something, Harry."

"I know, it's just...it must be very frustrating to him..."

"Just put some ice on it and go back to sleep," Ron told him.

"But what if he's coming? What if he's planning to kill Dumbledore?"

"We already _know_ he's planning to kill Dumbledore," Ron said exasperatedly. "We already _know_ he's up to something, we already _know_ all that stuff. Now unless you can tell us _what_ he is planning, stop stating the obvious!" With that, he flopped back into bed and threw the covers over his head.

Harry scowled. Ron couldn't understand. Dumbledore couldn't understand. Why didn't they? How _could_ they? It was so irritating how they'd just misunderstand him entirely and pass him off as what they assumed. He lay back down and tried to go back to sleep.

---

"Don't worry, Master!" Wormtail reassured Voldemort. "We'll get that gift if it's the last thing we do! We'll find a way to do it without torture! We will!"

"No, Wormtail, you don't get it," Voldemort said, glaring at the fine print. "It's just...in order to get it...we're going to have to be..." (There was scary music again, though no one had said "The Dark Lord") "..._nice._"

"Well, you are the Dark Lord"--_now_ comes the scary music and everything--"and we all know that you can do anything!" Wormtail said. "Just believe in yourself!" A small rainbow formed behind him. The sky became all blue and happy, and ponies were trotting merrily outside. There were puppies barking and sleeping with kittens. (Not in _that_ way, perverts!) It seemed as though the world was at peace.

"DON'T GIVE ME THAT CRAP!" Voldemort shouted. Suddenly the sky became total gloom-and-doom again, the puppies and kittens dropped dead, and the ponies ran away. "I need _help_, okay?!"

"There is a rehabilitation center just a few blocks from here if you want, sir..."

"Ugh." Voldemort sat down at the table and proceeded to headdesk repeatedly. He pounded his fist in time with the ramming.

Wormtail looked on, quite scared, wondering what was wrong with his master.

"I--hate--my--life--I--hate--my--life--"

---

"Ow--ow--OW!" Harry yelled. It felt as though he were banging his head against the wall, and might as well have been.

"What's wrong _now,_ Harry?" Ron demanded sleepily. Harry still hadn't gone back to sleep, so of course Ron wasn't able to, with all the racket.

"I--ow--just feel--ouch--pain--ow! Whatiswrongwiththisdarnscar?!" Harry said.

"You're probably having a migrane." Ron yawned. "Go to Madam Pomfrey or something, she'll have a good idea what to do..."

"Gah..." Harry slid out of bed, and not bothering getting out of his pajamas, he walked sluggishly to the hospital wing.

---

"How...to...be...nice."

Voldemort had somehow managed to attain a computer and was now Googling how to be nice. Wormtail was standing behind him, reading nervously over his shoulder.

"Let's see..." Voldemort leaned closer to the screen. "Number one: Smile a lot. Number two: Be kind to everyone. Number three: Always say hello. Number four: Compliment people. Number five: Be polite. Wow, this being nice stuff is a lot easier than I thought it would be," he said incredulously. "All I have to do is smile and say hello? Hmm."

He stood up and went to the mirror. Voldemort grinned at it and said in his most despicably polite voice, "Hello, little child."

The mirror cracked into a million pieces in response, but Voldemort did not care. He turned to Wormtail, smiling still, and said, "Let us go meet our little Muggle, shall we?"

"Oh yes, Master, let's," Wormtail said.

With that, they Apparated, and were sent off to the girl's house. Little do they know, it's going to be just a _bit_ more difficult than simply saying "Hello" to get the gift when _this_ author's writing...

**Author's Note: Second chapter, there you go! Now, review, please?**


	3. Cookies or Muffins?

**Author's Note: This chapter is partially written to the demented-sounding violins and vocals of Ms. Emilie Autumn, the victoriandustrial Violin Fairy! So, yeah. Read. Laugh. Review. Obey.**

**Disclaimer: -is out to lunch-**

Because of Wormtail, Voldemort had Apparated directly before a grocery store to retrieve goodies to be used as bribes. A box of chocolate chip cookies, maybe? Or some muffins? Hmm...cookies were awesome, and cheaper. Plus, who doesn't love cookies and milk? He picked up a box of cookies with large chunks of chocolate in them and headed straight to the door.

A teenage Muggle employee stood in front of Voldemort, blocking the exit. "Sir, you're going to have to pay for that."

Voldemort sighed, annoyed. "Really, I don't feel like _avada-kedavra-_ing someone right now."

"Excuse me?" The boy stared at him, confused. "Uhm, and a suggestion, you may want to go to the toothpaste section; I see _someone_ hasn't been brushing daily."

"Let me through, or you'll regret it, Muggle."

"Muggle? What?"

Voldemort sighed once more. Why couldn't the boy just move over? He whipped out his wand and said in a bored tone, "_Crucio._"

The boy shrieked and fell to the ground, writing and screaming. Voldemort stepped casually over him and kept walking. "Thanks for the cookies."

---

"I suddenly have the urge to eat...cookies..." Harry said to Madam Pomfrey, sitting in a bed in the hospital wing. "I don't get it, honestly."

"I know, muffins are so much better!" Ron said. He'd come with, even if he wasn't going to get any sleep. Madam Pomfrey had just hired a girl who looked a lot like Fleur Delacour fused with Lavender Brown and Hermione Granger, which, to him, was the ultimate woman, and he was _not_ about to pass the opportunity to stare at her all day.

Harry glared at Ron with that you're-_so_-not-helping attitude.

"Sorry," Ron grumbled.

"Dumbledore will want to know about this," Hermione told Harry. Hermione had shown up as well, in an attempt to convince Harry to tell Dumbledore about the pain in his scar. Really? No. She was actually there to make sure Madam Pomfrey's apprentice didn't try anything with her Ronny. Not that she liked Ron. They were just friends. Only friends. Stop staring.

"Is telling Dumbledore really the only solution you ever come up with?" Harry asked, looking at her frustratedly. "You don't get it! You'll never get it! Just leave me alone!" He grunted and crossed his arms, pouting. He looked quite similar to a miffed five-year-old who couldn't get a toy that they wanted.

Hermione sighed. Harry often threw hissy fits like this. The best way to solve it was to give him a slice of chocolate cake. **(A/N: Dang it, I'm hungry now!)** However, seeing as the kitchen was not making chocolate cake at the moment, they're just have to wait until it passed.

There was a terrible retching sound just a few beds away. Ethan Jones, a first year, had gotten into a pumpkin juice chugging contest earlier that day. He'd been able to take at least fourteen or so down that stomach of his. Unfortunately, no one had ever told him he was allergic to pumpkins.

"Bella," Madam Pomfrey said, turning to the new girl. "Will you please change Ethan's pillow over there? I believe he may have puked on it again."

Bella groaned. "_Again?_ Gosh, of all kids we could gotten, of all things he could've had rather than that stupid pumpkin juice..." She walked over to him, carrying a large bucket and her wand.

Ron looked after her with a longing look in his eyes, as though he did not want her to possibly damage her beauty in any way while cleaning up Ethan's mess. He looked like he wanted to murder Ethan at the moment, but not more than Madam Pomfrey, who was condemning such a fragile lady to be wiping up the puke.

Hermione gave him a death glare, not that he noticed. _She_ looked quite satisfied with Madam Pomfrey's decision to make Bella clean up, and, if anything, very glad Bella was cleaning up after Ethan, who threw up every ten minutes or so.

Harry, overcoming his fit, rolled his eyes. It was gonna be a long night.

---

Voldemort and Wormtail Apparated into the girl's house; they stood right outside the door, which was decorated with flowers and hearts and a disgustingly feminine shade of pink. Written in despicable girly letters were the words, "Morgan's Room!" and right below, "No boys allowed!"

It was the most hideous thing on the face of the earth.

It was even scarier than Barney the Dinosaur, and that's saying something.

So Voldemort, holding the cookies in one hand, put on his best smile (which wasn't all that good of a smile), and opened the door.

Morgan was lying in bed, curled up with a book, and cocked her head immediately when the door opened. She stared curiously at the being stepping into her room.

"Hello, little girl," Voldemort said, attempting to use a friendly, welcoming tone, like that lady from the instructional video on the internet had told him to use.

Morgan made no movement.

"Erm..." Voldemort smiled even wider. This wasn't working. "...Would you like to come to my house?"

Morgan stared for several moments longer. Suddenly she calmly slid off of her bed, holding a small can of something, and walked up to him.

They continued to stare at each other for a minute or two.

Then Morgan lifted the can, which was actually pepper spray stolen from Tigerstar and Hawkfrost (refer to "Wish Upon a Raindrop" for the full story behind that) and yelled, "DIE, UGLY MAN, DIE!" She sprayed at least half of the can into his face.

"It _burns!_" Voldemort screamed, falling back onto the floor. This was worse than the Cruciatus Curse! The pain! Oh, the pain!

Morgan proceeded to kick him in the sides.

Voldemort was seriously not enjoying this.

That's when Wormtail came to the rescue, pointing his wand at Morgan, who was suddenly floating in the air, shrieking angrily and making several death threats, all of which Voldemort felt could be carried out quite easily by the insane Muggle.

_Of all Muggles in the world, _he thought, _of _all _Muggles...the magical one had to be _her...

"Good spell, Wormtail," Voldemort commented, making his servant smile brightly. "Now," he said, turning to Morgan, who was still cursing colorfully, "I would like you to please join me in my quest to make me the most powerful Dark Wizard in all of the world."

"What's in it for me?" Morgan demanded.

Voldemort held up a plate of chocolate-chips. "Cookies."

Morgan instantly stopped struggling, and smiled. "Gimme the entire batch and I'll do it."

"Done." Voldemort handed Morgan the cookies, which were devoured in record-setting time. Wormtail let Morgan down.

"Now, come with me--hold my hand, little child, and we will fly away..." Voldemort held out his hand to Morgan.

Morgan looked at it. She turned her eyes to his face, looking disgusted, and said, "Jeez, dude, go to the dentist sometime, will you?"

Voldemort's eye twitched.

This was going to be a long, long night.


End file.
